


Tunnel of Love

by Asher_Ephraim



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Carnival, Casual Sex, Ditching Your Friends for Unsafe Casual Sex, Ferris Wheels, M/M, POV Kylo Ren, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13716432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asher_Ephraim/pseuds/Asher_Ephraim
Summary: Inspired by the Dire Straits song of the same title.Ben and Armitage find each other at a fair via Grindr.





	Tunnel of Love

Ben has been at the County Fair for all of eighteen minutes when out of habit, almost as a tic, he opens the app and glances down.  
         Nearby and active: A pale redhead with the username _I hate these places_. This is someone he’s never seen before, but that shouldn’t be surprising, considering that he lives and works fifty miles from the fairground. Ben clicks on the image, skims down the profile.

> **Bio:** My tribe would be Miserable Bastard were that an option. I have a PhD in something you’re not interested in, so don’t ask. Please refrain from sending unsolicited images of your nether regions. I am on excellent terms with the block feature.  
>  **Age:** 31  
>  **Height:** 6’2”  
>  **Weight:** 165 lb  
>  **Position:** verse bottom  
>  **Looking for:** right now  
>  **HIV status:** negative on PrEP    

         It’s all super promising. But what has Ben’s pulse racing are those piercing blue-green eyes, the sardonic smile. He taps out a message.  
          _—Let me try to amuse you._  
         A minute passes, during which time the other man is either not paying attention or reading Ben’s own profile. His own username was previously set as _LTR-minded_ , but so far he hasn’t connected with anyone who was up for more than a friends-with-benefits situation. A few days ago he changed it to _why not?_ His phone dings with a message.  
          _—I’m to the side of the shooting gallery, having a cigarette and looking horribly out of place. Come distract me from the morons that surround me._  
         Ben nods to one of his friends and mumbles, “Think I’ll wander around for a bit.”  
          Rey rolls her eyes, loudly announces, “Grindr date!” to the rest of the group, and promptly shoves half her cotton candy into her mouth at one go. There’s no responding to that, so Ben leaves without further explanation.

 

Ben has no difficulty finding the man. He’s precisely as described, exhaling clouds of smoke as he scowls toward the midway. Slender, even paler in the low light than he was in his picture. On registering Ben’s presence, he nods briefly.  
         Extending his hand, Ben shares his first name. The redhead frowns, appears to be making a decision about his own response, and answers, “Hux. Family name. I don’t go by my given one.” They shake, and Ben notes the man’s delicate hands, his overall graceful build. He isn’t just attractive—he’s beautiful, the way very expensive art is beautiful.  
         After recovering a bit from the Irish accent, Ben has to ask, “If you hate these things, what dragged you out here?” He gestures to the carnival around them, encompassing the rides, the smell of fried food and hay, the squealing children.  
         “The small group of monsters masquerading as my friends. ‘Come out and be social,’ they said. ‘It’ll be good for you,’ they said. I’m going to send them the bill for me fags.”  
         “Oh.” Startled, Ben blinks at the word, then recalls it means something else across the Atlantic. “You’re Irish.”  
         “Yep. In the States for post-doc bullshit.” He tosses the butt away into the darkness and shrugs. “So, how about you? Do you enjoy fairs?”  
         Ben demurs. “It depends. I like the rides and the food.” Honestly, he feels the environment is ideal for romance. The perfect place to bring a new lover, when a relationship is still nerve-wrackingly fresh.  
         The redhead sniffs. “Ah, yes. Grease fried in oil. Or is it the other way round?”  
         “Have you tried the kettle corn?”  
         “No.”  
         “It isn’t fried. You might like it. I’ll get a bag.” Ben takes Hux by the hand and leads him toward the nearest food tent. Once he’s procured a bag, he presses it into Hux’s hand. He can’t help but swallow when his fingertips brush the man’s wrist.  
         Crunching down on the first bite, Hux’s eyes widen. “Oh. Not bad.” He pops another small handful into his mouth then licks butter off his lips as he chews. “You were right. Not everything here is complete trash.”  
         Ben beams, feeling oddly vindicated.  
         “But I’m sure you didn’t message me to feed me special-edition popcorn.”  
         “Not exactly, no,” he admits.  
         “What do you want?”  
         Brow furrowing, Ben tries to answer. “Something… interesting. A connection, maybe. However brief.”  
         “So you’re not looking for a blowjob and a shag against the fence?” This is spoken with what appears to be a characteristic smirk.  
         Ben coughs into a fist. “I mean… Of course I am. But I’d like to spend some more time with you first.”  
         Hux raises an eyebrow. “That _is_ interesting. You must’ve noticed that I didn’t list dating as one of my interests.”  
         “Not really a date,” Ben insists, although he wishes it weren’t the case. “More like extended foreplay.” And that’s mostly true: he’s found that knowing someone a bit makes the sex that much more satisfying.  
         An honest smile creeps across Hux’s face. “I can get on board that.”  
         “How about a go on the Ferris Wheel? It’s a good view and we can make out at the top.”  
         The redhead shrugs and looks toward the ground but as his head tilts, Ben catches a brief happy glint in his eyes.  
         During their wait in line, Ben is repeatedly tempted to ask about Hux’s degree. But he doesn’t; he remembers the warning in the profile. After only ten minutes they turn their tickets in to a grizzled man who appears to be one funny look away from giving up on the entire human race and retiring to a cave. When Hux settles in beside him and the bar lowers to lock across their laps, Ben feels a surge in his chest as his heart begins to beat faster. He keeps his hands to himself for the time being because he can feel perspiration line his palms. At the top, Ben leans over and shyly kisses Hux on the cheek. His skin is cool and smells of expensive tobacco and the hint of a cologne. Ben is trying to place the scent when Hux settles a hand above his knee and turns in for a direct kiss.  
         “You’re sweet,” Hux murmurs, brushing his hand over the hair at Ben’s temple, where it’s pulled back toward his ponytail. “Much sweeter than I’m accustomed to.” He gazes over the fairway, surveying the glittering lights above the crowd.  
         Ben doesn’t know if this is a full compliment or a thinly veiled request to be more forthright. Either way, he feels vaguely sad that Hux isn’t used to being treated nicely. But perhaps that isn’t what he wants. “Is that a problem?” he finally dares to ask.  
         “Nah. But I’m looking forward to seeing a more… assertive side of you.” As the wheel turns and they begin their descent, Hux gives Ben’s thigh a tight squeeze. “And I can’t wait to get your dick in my mouth,” he whispers into Ben’s ear.  
         All sweet thoughts vanish as Ben’s jeans become significantly tighter.

 

Immediately after disembarking, Hux lights another cigarette and grabs hold of Ben’s hand. Pulling him from the midway with surprising strength for his frame, the redhead explains, “We need to be alone now.”  
         They find a deserted and poorly lit tent filled with the equipment needed to move, assemble, and disassemble carnival machinery. “You think no one will come in here?” Ben asks a bit nervously, peering around.  
         “Sure. Besides, if they do, no big deal. Sodomy isn’t a crime anymore.”  
         Ben is about to gripe that public indecency still is, but the redhead prevents this by leaning in and pressing their lips together.  
         “Who’s fucking whom?” Hux asks when the kiss ends, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of dark hair behind Ben’s ear. “Because I saw you’re a verse top. So this could go either way.”  
         Ben nods, by this point not particularly caring who does what to whom. Especially since the slender fingers of Hux’s other hand are working under the waistband of his jeans and into his boxers.  
         “Oh,” Hux breathes in delight. “That answers it, then.”  
         “What answers what?” Ben asks, swallowing as he hardens fully in Hux’s cool grasp.  
         “My question. With a dick like this, you’re definitely topping.”  
         “Size queen?” Ben teases.  
         Hux laughs lightly as he unbuttons his shirt and throws it over a dolly stacked with boxes. “Call me what you like,” he murmurs, unconcerned. “I know what I want.” Sinking to his knees, he looks up at Ben’s face as he undoes his fly. “But you’d better have lube with you if this is going in my arse.”  
         Before Ben can answer in the affirmative, Hux has him out of his boxers and is nuzzling at the head. He’s probably leaking already, but if so, the redhead has promptly licked up all evidence. “Oh, fuck,” he stammers. “That’s… holy shit…” He gazes down, blinks when he realizes exactly how much of his cock is past Hux’s lips. The redhead isn’t choking or even gagging yet. “Can you take it all?” he whispers.  
         Eyelids fluttering open, Hux sits back on his heels so he can answer. “Probably not unless you hold me down.” Giving that crooked smile that makes something in Ben’s chest ache, he adds, “You may hold me down.”  
         Ben takes that statement as the near-order it is and places a broad hand on the back of Hux’s head. “Fu-uck,” he groans when the crown of his dick taps the back of Hux’s throat and then slides down it. Staring at Hux’s face, he sees tears begin to dampen and mat ginger lashes. Still, Hux makes no sounds other than quiet gulping and smacking. “It’s so good. You’re so good.” He releases his grip on Hux’s hair, and the redhead pulls back. But he doesn’t let up entirely—instead he swirls his tongue around the head and slit as he regains his breath. “Stop, Hux, you’ve got to stop. I’m too close.”  
         That has Hux backing off instantly and wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He obviously wants to get his own share of amusement out of Ben’s dick.  
         “Stand up.” Ben reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a packet of lubricant. “Get your pants off.” Once the redhead has done this and is standing in front of him in briefs alone, Ben kneels in front of him and pulls the underwear to the ground. He teases Hux’s head and shaft with his tongue, but soon moves to his balls… and then he’s grabbing the redhead by the waist and turning him around. With hands large enough to cover most of Hux’s ass, he spreads the cheeks and stares at his pucker. Tight and pink. He leans in, gives it a lick, feels it flutter responsively against his tongue. Confirming that Hux tastes not only clean but good, he presses his mouth firmly against the hole and listens to the redhead sigh as he goes to town.  
         “Ben,” Hux breathes once the man behind him has worked the tip of his tongue inside. “Quit teasin’. Fuck me now an’ fuck me hard. And from behind,” he adds.  
         With a low chuckle at the insistence bordering on bossiness, Ben stands and rips open the packet of lube. He wets a finger and confidently slides it inside Hux’s heat. The redhead hums in quiet satisfaction, but within seconds, he’s arching his back and demanding more. Ben gives him a second and then a third finger.  
         “Now, oh bloody hell, _now_ ,” Hux demands.  
         “Shit, let me get a condom out.” Ben begins patting down his pockets.  
         Hux shakes his head adamantly. “Don’t bother. If you’re clean.”  
         “I am, but are you sure?”  
         “Yeah. I shouldn’t be, I don’t usually… But please.”  
         Knowing he’ll kick himself for this lapse of self-control later, Ben slathers his cock with the remainder of the lubricant and presses between Hux’s cheeks. “I’ve never fucked a redhead before,” he discloses as he takes a good moment to admire the smooth, pale skin of Hux’s back. “You’re gorgeous, y’know," he adds shyly.  
         “Stop stallin’. I’m done with the foreplay.” He takes a deep breath as though steadying himself for intimacy. “I wanna feel you.”  
         “Is this what you want?” Ben asks teasingly as he brushes the slick head against Hux’s even slicker hole.  
         “You know it is, love.”  
         Slowly, smoothly, Ben enters. He can feel Hux tense, relax, and then stretch around him. He tries to remember the last time he fucked someone bare. Not since his last relationship—he’s been careful during this casual phase. Until now, of course.  
         “Oh Jesus Fucking Christ,” Hux pants. “It’s been ages since I took someone this long an’ thick.”  
         “You need a moment?”  
         The redhead nods silently. Ben amuses himself by reaching his hands up Hux’s chest and taking hold of both nipples. Hux gasps. Ben wants to pound at him, but he’s learned to control his impulses when they might cause unintended pain. He kisses the redhead’s pale neck. Hux’s back arches and he whispers, “Now. Fuck me now.”  
         Ben doesn’t need to be told twice. “You’re the hottest guy I’ve met like this. And you give the best head I’ve ever had.”  
         “I’m sure I do, boyo. Years of practice.” After letting out a quiet moan, he teases, “And how’s this?”  
         Arms crossed over Hux’s chest, Ben forcefully pushes up into his heat, but Hux’s body is pliant and giving. “God,” Ben breathes as an answer.  
         Hux slings a slim arm up to grab Ben by the hair, yanking it loose from his ponytail. “Fuck, that’s it, Ben.” His other hand busies itself with his own cock.  
         Biting down where Hux’s shoulders meet his neck, Ben reaches down to wrap a hand around Hux’s, then to take over stroking him. “This feels so good,” he whispers before sucking at an earlobe.  
         “I know it. I’m gonna feel you for days. Go as hard as you want.”  
         “Yeah?” Ben hammers home.  
         Between panted breaths, Hux warns, “Gettin’ close.”  
         Whispering into the redhead’s ear, Ben orders, “Come for me, Hux. Come with me deep inside you.”  
         Hux’s body shudders and he cries out as he spills over onto Ben’s broad hand—a sharp, vulnerable noise. Ejaculate drips onto the ground, splattering the sawdust at their feet. Ben fucks him slowly and deeply through it, kissing his ear and the side of his face. By the time Hux’s moans have faded to gasps, Ben stands still, holding him up in his arms.  
         “Go on and finish,” Hux demands. When Ben begins to step back to comply, the redhead reaches behind to wrap an arm around Ben’s hip and keep him in place. Shaking his head to underline his sincerity, Hux insists, “No. In me.”  
         “Sure?”  
         Clearly exasperated now, the redhead snaps, “Yes, damn it. Do it right.”  
         As he returns to thrusting, Ben bites Hux’s neck again, causing the man to whimper quietly up at the centre of the tent. Now Ben’s movements are shallow, frantic. “Oh, God. So good, babe.” With a long, deep groan, he fills Hux’s body.  
         “That’s it, love. Just how I needed it.”  
         Now Ben doesn’t want to leave this close heat. He wants to fall asleep as he softens here, wants to wake up in the morning to look over and watch the redhead snoring gently in his bed. But Hux has other plans; he’s already stirring in Ben’s arms. He locates his jacket, reaches into a pocket, and removes a handkerchief to clean himself off. As he steps back into his clothes, a rather distant look takes over his face.  
         “Thanks, Ben. You certainly delivered on your promise to make this whole evening enjoyable.” It sounds like he’s thanking Ben for a pleasant conversation over coffee. As though Ben’s sweat isn’t cooling on his skin, his ejaculate still hot inside him.  
         Distracting himself from these thoughts by dressing and tidying his hair, Ben responds, “You’re quite welcome.”  
         “Goodnight.” Leaning in on tiptoes, Hux places his lips against Ben’s for a quick, gentle kiss. Then he steps back and lights another cigarette. “Here,” he says, handing his lighter to the other man. Seeing Ben’s quizzical expression, he explains, “As a keepsake.”  
         Ben nods, accepting the odd little gift. “Have a good night.”  
         With an enigmatic smile and a wave, Hux leaves the tent.  
         Once he’s alone with the machinery and assorted equipment, Ben examines the lighter. It’s nicer than he’d realized: silver-plated, with the initials AH engraved in calligraphy on the side. He wonders what the A stands for. Alexander? Aaron? Tossing the lighter a ways into the air and catching it, Ben stands, stretches, and goes to rejoin his friends.

 

“I certainly hope you had fun,” Rey declares with an accompanying roll of her eyes when she catches sight of Ben. “Ditching friends for sex. I can’t believe you. Don’t you remember ‘bros before hos’?”  
         “Yes.” Unprompted, he rants, “It was sexist, slut-shaming, and heteronormative. Although I do appreciate its emphasis on friendship.”  
         She nods, accepting this as the closest thing to an apology she’s likely to receive. “What was he like?”  
         “Gorgeous. Sarcastic. Ginger. Irish.” He sighs. “Best sex I’ve ever had.”  
         Blinking in patent disbelief, Rey snaps, “And you just let him go?”  
         Ben crosses his arms and shrugs defensively. “It was a hookup. That’s how these things work.”  
         “You’re an idiot,” she concludes.  
         “I…” Ben’s voice fades as he stares into the air past Rey’s head. Guiltily, he gulps. “Oh, God. You’re right.” He’s spent the past eight years praying for something more permanent than a few nights here and there. Looking for someone he could stand to talk to as opposed to just fuck, thank, and leave. A man he’d like to cuddle with and wake up beside, morning after morning with no end in sight.  
         As his heartbeat lurches forward at an uncomfortable clip, he turns and sets off at a brisk pace that quickly evolves into a full sprint. Feeling his hair once again come loose from its ponytail and stream behind him, he knows he must look haunted. Perhaps he is.  
_Adam? Alan?_  
         Coming to a complete stop in the dead center of the midway, he thinks to check his phone. Opening the conversation screen of the app, he types out a quick message: _Still around?_ Even though Hux is offline, Ben hopes the man has notifications turned on. Sliding the phone back into his pocket where he’ll be able to feel the vibration of a response, he returns to scanning the throng of people.  
_Andrew? Aidan?_  
         Shooting gallery. Viking Ship. Palisades. Cotton candy vendor. Tilt-A-Whirl. He nearly trips over a stroller in his haste to find A. Hux. Threading between stalls and rides, he prays to see a flash of red hair. Possible names have become a mantra underpinning his search.  
          _Abner. Asa. Austin. Arthur._  
         Nothing. He’s an idiot alone in the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, guys. Listen to this song: https://youtu.be/SG5XQqaSwbM


End file.
